


Welcome to the Black Parade

by Eyes_of_a_Tragedy



Series: Destiel Advent Calendar 2019 [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Destiel - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, Forgiveness is the Name of the Game, Happy Hanukkah, Kinda, M/M, My version of it anyway, inspired by song lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21890575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyes_of_a_Tragedy/pseuds/Eyes_of_a_Tragedy
Summary: Dean Winchester has walked hand-in-hand with death his entire life. When it's time to lay his weary head to rest, will he finally find peace?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel Advent Calendar 2019 [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558915
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	Welcome to the Black Parade

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere in the process of this advent calendar, Frankie said, "Can day 22 be Hanukkah related?" and we all went, "Yeah! That's a great idea!" And then day 22 sat with a note… Hannukah… for what felt like forever. There was a group chat conversation about the fact that none of us are Jewish and really don't know much about the holiday. But I snagged it anyway.
> 
> This fic is not a Hanukkah story, and honestly is the merest of nods, but I do think it's important to acknowledge it. For those of you who do follow the beliefs, I wish you the happiest of Hanukkahs! Please don't kill me.
> 
> This story is inspired by the lyrics of "Welcome to the Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance. It's a song about death and how it affects those left behind. But it's also full of power and life. It holds strong personal meaning for me, and screams Dean Winchester in my head.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> **This work of fiction is subject to copyright, and I do not consent to it being reposted, uploaded to any site other than Ao3, or used for monetary gain without my written consent.**

The sky was a bruise of grey and green, and that sickly yellow you only saw on damaged skin. Dean Winchester was parked at Rufus's cabin, crashed out on the hood of his trusty sidekick, legs dangling in front of her grill, waiting for the floodgates to open.

He needed the rain on his face, the water pelting his skin, cleansing him, absolving him of the guilt he carried. He needed the mask of it. To hide his tears.

It had been years since he'd felt this loss, years since he'd grieved the son of a bitch who'd moulded him into the soldier he still was, to this day. But the years had been long, and so much had happened. And if Dean was being completely honest with himself – hell, with anyone – he'd admit that the man who had appeared in the bunker wasn't as much of a monster as he'd made him out to be in his mind.

Fuck knew John Winchester hadn't been a perfect father. And Dean was well aware of the fact that he carried some serious baggage, due to the years of abandonment and neglect, while his dad had kicked around – saving people, hunting things.

The family business created a rift between the Winchesters that leaked like a sieve.

But Dean and Sam had come through okay. They were strong together, had done good in the world. Until Chuck came and fucked it all to hell.

Talk about some A+ parenting.

As the skies rained down on him, Dean let go. He let himself mourn the loss, again, of the man who had shaped his life. Thought back to the times that weren't awful, though some would argue they were few and far between.

He railed against the wind, lungs burning molten rage; then his throat locked up, nothing but stilted exhales escaping.

Eyes still closed, he felt a soothing presence close in. Hands gripped the outsides of his knees, body moving between them. Dean threw his arm over his face and gulped in a ragged breath.

"Hello, Dean." That rumble of comfort was everything he needed.

Dean pushed himself up and wrapped himself around his angel, burying his face into Cas's neck, where he smelled like honey-sweet lightning.

"You're going to get sick if you stay out here much longer, my love," Cas whispered into the freckles dotting Dean's cheekbone.

_ Fuck, what had he done to deserve this man? _ He had no idea why Cas always came back to him, but he was done fighting it. Done getting in the way of what they both wanted. He'd be damned if Cas's name got added to the list of Dean Winchester's Greatest Misses.

He looked into the storm of Cas's eyes. "I love you. I love you with all of the words I've never said, for all of the years you've stood by me, all of the shit you've put up with…" Blue lit up his sky. "Cas, I'm ready."

The honey melted away, leaving ozone and fire in its wake. Cas tugged his hips closer, hauling him off Baby's hood. Dean wrapped his legs tighter around Cas's waist, relinquishing some of the weight, as Cas carried him into the cabin.

They made it as far as the fireplace before Dean tugged Cas down into a desperate kiss, nipping at his lips. Sunshine burst on his tongue, all warmth and fresh green growth after the rain.

Hands tore at his clothing, drenched t-shirt plopping to the ground, soaked denim falling to his feet. And then his angel was kneeling before him, unlacing his sturdy leather boots and peeling off his socks so he could step out of his jeans.

Cas was his savior, divinity defined.

Dean carded his fingers through that thick, dark hair and stroked his thumb over the shell of Cas's ear, looking down at the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Cas…" he whispered, shivers racing down his spine.

And Cas – the beautiful, crazy genius – ran his hands up Dean's exposed skin, over the cotton that was his last barrier, and stripped him bare.

Blade-calloused fingertips caressed his hips, teased over his soft midriff, perfectly chapped lips following their path. A flick of tongue over the tip of his cock almost brought Dean to his knees.

And then it was all wet heat surrounding him, the gentle brush of stubble against sensitive skin, and Dean fumbled to hold on.

One hand tangled in his lover's hair, he reached the other out, grasping for purchase and something to ground him. The heavy thunk of an object hitting the floor only briefly distracted him.

"Oh, Cas," Dean moaned, living in the feel of his angel's mouth on him, full of worship.

Teeth lightly grazed their way up his shaft, and Cas pulled off, leaning back with glazed-over eyes. Dean wiped at the moisture at the corner of his mouth, then brushed his thumb over the angel's lower lip.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Sunshine." And the light that shone behind those stormcloud eyes was more radiant than the stars.

"Dean." Cas looked up at him with wonder, then surged up to plunder his mouth. They kissed with all of the passion they'd repressed for so long.

And Dean groaned as Cas gripped him tight and jacked him like they didn't have until the end of time to finally love each other true.

***

"For cryin' out loud, Bobby. It's not that I'm not happy for the two of them. I mean, it's about damn time that fool of a son of yours got his head out of his… but that's my fireplace they're defiling! And my menorah on the floor! You'd think they could show a little respect."

Bobby pointedly did not glance in the direction of Rufus's living room, did not need to see his boys finally taking that bull-headed last step.

"Let them be, ya’ idjit. They've given everything for this moment. And, yeah, I don't want to see Dean's naked ass, or what the angel's packin' either. But this is their place now, and we're the intruders."

Rufus reached for his bottle of Johnny. "Do you think he knows?"

Pushing an empty glass over to his friend, Bobby nodded. "He knows. He's finally letting himself have the life, the love he's always turned away from. Maybe it's not orthodox, but this is his heaven. And he's finally free."

He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, fighting back the grief for the sacrifice his boys made. If they could carry on, grab their peace by the throat and run with it… well, they'd goddamn earned every minute.

Bobby picked up the glass, now two fingers full of amber liquid, and raised it in a toast. "Happy Hanukkah, you damn drama queen."

Rufus clinked his glass to Bobby's and replied, "Merry Christmas, you old coot."

Their grins turned to grimaces as loud thumping started from the other room.

_ Your memory will carry on... _

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to play with the idea of fathers. Some of you might not be thrilled with my portrayal of John here, but this is coming from a place of serious contemplation for Dean. And I liked the idea of him shedding the darkness and hurt he's carried for so long, that in his personal heaven, he's free of that burden and can finally fly unafraid.
> 
> I love the idea that he's open to love, in all of its myriad forms. Because without John Winchester, who knows if Dean would have had Bobby Singer as his surrogate father, Rufus as his crazy uncle, Cas as his guardian angel?
> 
> I wish you all a wonderful holiday season, and truly hope 2020 brings you amazing things!


End file.
